


This Place

by Desdimonda



Category: Naruto, Naruto Shippuden
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Blood, Blow Jobs, Bottom Uchiha Obito, Chains, Clothed Sex, Kamui dimension, M/M, Obito’s Chakra Chains, One Shot, Poetic Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 02:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: Kakashi and Obito have been fighting for hours, but instead of their anger rising, it’s faded to questions, to confusion, to feelings once thought lost as they linger in this place, that shifts, that changes, that speaks around them, for them, helping them say what they really want to say....and do.





	This Place

**Author's Note:**

> Some Kamui porn fun :3
> 
> I’m usually really particular about good lube use in fics, but yeah. This scenario didn’t really work with having lube lying around or there??? so just, go with the floooowwww <3

“What are we doing here?”

Obito stares at Kakashi, watching the blood drip from the x wound across his chest. He’d felt nothing as it hit. It was just a necessity. A tactic. Survival to reach a goal. But now when he stares, he feels. 

He thought he’d never have to again on this plane. Feeling wasn’t for the waking world. Just for The Dream. That’s where it was going to be right. 

Then why did it bleed through to his heart. A heart that shouldn’t beat, but did. It did, for him. 

“Obito,” shouts Kakashi again, his voice both present and distant as it rang through the disjointed, seemingly unending walls of Kamui. “ _ Why are we here?” _

Breath fogs his words. They’ve been fighting for hours, or days. It could be a lifetime. Time is inconsequential in here. It’s why he spends so much time within, and not without. Time feels like his master here, because it is. This place is his. Where he walks, it bends; where he wishes, it wills. 

But when Kakashi stepped inside, it no longer felt like his, but  _ theirs. _

Obito draws his fingers along a bloodied wall, and takes a step. It  _ was  _ theirs. They both had an eye of Kamui, and this was their world. 

Kakashi is slumped against a wall, but he pushes himself off enough to throw off his torn and tattered jacket. It feels too heavy. There is too much in here he feels. Within here there is nothing. Featureless walls, emptiness, bleak loneliness, a vast expanse of  _ nothing.  _

But at the centre of it all, stands everything.

Sore fingers pull down his mask. 

“Talk to me.”

Talking to Kakashi again had been a dream - both in his heart, and head. It had kept him alive in that cave. But then it had festered and warped, turning into something unrecognisable and sore. He’d watched Kakashi from afar, he’d seen him mourn, he’d watch him  _ live,  _ all the while Obito slowly died.

He didn’t just see the future through his eyes - he lived it for him. 

When all he ever wanted was to live it  _ with him. _

Obito takes another step. 

“I watched you.” The words fall unexpected. Hearing his own voice again feels strange. It still doesn’t fit. Will it ever fit again? 

Again? There is never meant to be an  _ again  _ for Obito on this world _.  _ Bloodied fingers smudge the bare wall. He should look away from Kakashi. But he can’t. He won't. 

Kakashi just, listens.

“I watched you, for most of your life. Coming and going with Kamui and staying in the shadows.” It was only them that would hear these words. Only ever them. “You visit my memorial and Rin’s grave every morning before 6am. You eat Ichiraku at least twice a week. You wore a dog mask in ANBU. There are four plants on your kitchen windowsill. And you pet every dog you see.” Obito pauses, pulling off his bloodied glove. “But that one, I already knew.”

“I wish you-“

Obito closes his eyes. “Do you not think I tried? That I wanted to? You were steps away. But I -“ he opens his eyes, lips parting as he finds Kakashi closer. A step, two. 

“You blame me. I know.”

“Not for her death. I know she chose to die.” He steps closer. Kakashi too. “You didn’t protect her.” Kakashi tries to speak, but Obito holds out a hand. “But neither…did I.”

Step. Step. Obito is motionless, watching, feeling. It’s like he’s remembering what it is like again. And simply, the closer Kakashi gets, the more he remembers. The more he wants. The more he needs. It’s as if he’s turning the page of a book already read, but the years have vanquished the story, the attachment of word to memory. But it’s okay, because someone is there to help him remember. 

At last.

Obito continues. “She was our best friend, and the kindest, gentlest person I ever knew. We failed her. The world failed her. What kind of world is this if it cannot protect people like her.” He looks up. He’s here now. Just a hand’s reach away. It’s like his dream. But dreams are not for here - for the waking world. He’s not allowed things like that that here. No.

No. 

His ungloved hand meets Kakashi’s chest, pushing up along his shoulder as fingertips press in hard. 

_ Yes. _

He finds Obito’s hand with his. One that minutes, moments ago had been hurting, but now just wants to hold. “It’s a world where you’re still alive,” breathes Kakashi. “A world that I want to live in.” 

_ With you. _

He can’t say it. Can Obito feel it? Can he see it with those eyes? Has he always known it? 

Obito’s nails scratch against Kakashi’s chest. “But there’s nothing -  _ nothing -  _ left in this hell world. It - needs to end. To ascend.” He presses against Kakashi’s chest, a sharp breath catching in his lungs. When was the last time he breathed like this - not just to survive, but to feel  _ alive.  _

“Have you heard nothing I just said?” whispers Kakashi, as the words drag against his ear with his lips. “You, are left.”

Obito trembles. If he lets go he thinks he might fall through Kamui. Away, away. Scratching, scrawling, fingers cling to Kakashi, desperately. Where not long before they wove war, the beat of its drum fades, and fades to the beat of his heart, that he thought long dead, and gone. 

But it was just waiting. 

_ Waiting for you. _

“Even after everything...I’ve done,” whispers Obito against Kakashi’s neck. He smells of sweat, of blood, of something sweet, twisting in his hair. The consequence of his life weighed with every blow and move as they’d fought. It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand what he had done until now. The world could break and he would wear his penance. For this life was insignificant and fleeting now.

Until he stood before Kakashi. Until he looked into his eyes. Until he touched him. 

As Tobi, life felt like a mirage, an ever changing playground that he could step where he wanted, when he wanted. It wasn’t just his laughter that was infectious. There were times that he  _ was  _ Tobi. How easy it would have been to stay as him. The sweet, oblivious boy, with no burden to bear but don’t remember who you  _ really are.  _

Then as Madara, everything was painted with a different palette. And only now, was it peeling away. He was muted, a reflection of how the true Madara had made him see the world. Moulded to his eyes, his thoughts, his ways.

Except in here. Everything was as it should be. Because this world was theirs, and only ever theirs. 

Obito’s gloved hand slides along Kakashi’s arm, tracing the curve of his muscles, out, in. He waits for his answer. He waits. He’ll wait forever if he has to. Because he’s in these arms, surrounded, bounded, like it always should have been. 

As he feels a hand slide beneath his robe, as it pulls at the ties of pants, he wonders who else would have changed the world if it wasn’t him. Who would have started the war if not he. If he’d not been crushed beneath that boulder, he would have always been here. 

Not Kamui, not lost, but in Kakashi’s arms, knowing what it felt like to love.

He draws his lips against Kakashi’s neck, along, up, a sharp gasp painting his skin as his teeth score. 

Love. That was what he fought for. Why he did this. He’s going to create a world  _ full  _ of love, void of despair, of darkness, of hatred. A world where she still lives; a world they all live, together.

But love - love, is here too. He just has to find it again.

Obito kisses his neck, his ear, fingers pushing off his headband, the metal catching the floor and echoing over, and over. Their kisses still haven’t met. Obito wonders that once they do, it will break the spell. The illusion his eyes have woven will crack and tear, piece by undeserving piece, to the floor. 

_ Even after everything...I’ve done, you want me.  _

“Answer me,” he says again, the words accompanied by a groan as he feels fingertips brush his stomach. He’s been touched before. But before didn’t matter. 

“Can’t...this just do for now?” A silence holds. A hesitation. But then, a kiss. It’s hurried and hot. It’s nothing like he thought. He can taste blood, he can taste the salt of sweat. The ridge of Obito’s scars are rough against his lips. He pauses as he feels the force of their kiss  _ move  _ them back a step. Two. Obito’s hands clinging to his shoulders, circling to his neck, through his tangled hair and around, around, as he tries to find traction. Kakashi runs his tongue along the raised scars on his lips, feeling for the first time, wondering if it will be the last.

Obito pushes back, reclaiming their kiss and lost steps. 

“For now,” he whispers against Kakashi’s lips, pushing off his top, shredded, bloodied, and casting it aside. He thinks he'll be able to see the truth in his eyes, but he is too afraid to really look. So he just kisses. So he just feels. 

Quick fingers make work of his pants, and hands slipping together, Obito step steps out, kicking them to the side. It's never cold or warm in here. It just is. But a chill trickles across Obito's bared skin as his robe glances against his hard length, untouched, unwanted, in so long. 

He moves, breaking the space between them. It's too much now that they've touched again. 

It'll always be too much, now. 

Kissing, twisting, moaning, Kakashi tries to unwind his obi, but he resists. 

“Leave it on.” Obito looks up, fleeting, his words, breathless. “I want the rest on.”

Kakashi pauses. He smiles.

Then falls to his knees. 

He doesn't wait. He moves. Strong hands with a heart in awe hold Obito's thighs as he slides his mouth down, tasting him at last.

This, is more what he expected. He feels strong and thick against his lips; hot and bitter to his tongue; to his ears, he is loud and languid, accentuating every lick with a note, every move with a moan. And he can still smell the blood from earlier, dried, smeared across his skin - skin he an hour ago tried to marr, but now, moulds to his touch and his tongue. 

Him. 

Kakashi can feel the power in his thighs as he tries to keep standing. He sways, fingers twisting through grey strands. Kakashi knows he wants to guide him, control the way he moves.

But there's something in this place that makes Obito surrender. 

It's already brought him here, trading a fist for a kiss; war, for love. 

Might he pretend it was such. Only that could hold power enough to halt him towards his goal. Because it was - it  _ is  _ love - that drives him. The loss, the lack, the quash of it from this world, so another one shall exist 

Kakashi pulls back and away as he hears a loud, persisting moan. He watches the flicker of Obito's eyelids, shadowing his mismatched eyes. He breathes fast, uneven, broad chest pushing against his robe. 

Obito looks down. 

“What?” he asks, almost shy. 

It takes Kakashi aback. Hours before he looked down with power, words dripping poison and pain. 

But was it just another mask he had to shed? 

There's a distant light in the distant corner that gives Obito a bluey aura. But there's no source. It just is. There's so much in here, that just is. But there's so much in here that isn't. Kakashi wonders how much of it is just a place, and how much of it changes, shifts, to reflect Obito's heart and soul.

He smiles, drawing his hands down the skirt of his robe, thumbing the details on the edge.

He tugs. Obito obeys. 

The robe fans out as he kneels, fluid, like it breathes with him, but he isn't on his knees for long. After a kiss, two, Kakashi pushes him onto his back. There's no resistance. 

Obito realises he's never looked up in here. It's not a sky. Nor a ceiling. Just, up. A black that does not begin, or end. Feeling the brush of Kakashi's hair against his thighs, feeling the roll of a thumb against his bud, feeling the warm wet whisper of his tongue push inside, Obito sighs, he reaches up towards the black, curling his fingers, one by one.

It felt so strange. Not because it was new. Granted, Kakashi's kiss was. But it was because he let himself…be free. 

Joy, was bound beneath him. An undeserving thread of this life, that would only be held in the next. At times he was sure it wasn't just bound, but gone. Extinguished when he should have been. But as every touch from tongue, to finger, to lips, to breath graced his skin - was it just lost, and now found? 

Kakashi feels Obito writhe as he pushes his fingers further, further inside. Two, three, gently easing him open, his lips kissing along his warm, twitching length as he works in, and out. He's loved him for so long, for all his life. But he was stuck in time. A perfect picture. A vision moulded in mourning. 

Now in life, the truth speaks louder. Harsher. And he has to learn Obito again. But he just listens and looks, moulding his moves from his lover's melody, a song he never wants to forget. 

Obito reaches out. He touches the brush of Kakashi's hair. Something heavy falls across his head. Metal, to metal. Turning his head, Kakashi sees his chakra chains twisting around a hand, more links slowly forming with each sharp breath in, and out. 

He smiles. 

A last kiss. A last lick, lathering his fingers as he twists them around, around again, feeling, stretching, as he crawls on top. 

“No.” Obito gasps, whipping his chain around Kakashi's chest, as one, he flips them over, and with a thud, Kakashi hits the floor, chain winding back to Obito's hand. 

“I did enjoy looking up at you earlier,” drawls Kakashi as he slowly slides out his fingers, dripping with saliva. 

“Good.”

Rising to his knees, Obito pauses for a moment. Just a moment, as he stares at Kakashi. He traces the still bloodied wound on his chest from earlier, dampening his fingers red. He reaches up and draws his finger down the scar on Kakashi’s face, painting it with blood. The tip of his chains brush against his cheek. 

“This place-” he begins, but stops, unsure of what next to say. Kakashi takes his fingers and licks, just as his other hand guides his hard length toward Obito's slick hole. And he nudges gently. Gently. 

And at the touch, Obito cries out, beautifully. There's nowhere to echo, but it seems to surround them. The chain extends with his moan, curling around Kakashi's arm as Obito holds his hand, sinking down against Kakashi's push until they meet. And they meet for a moment - eye to eye, hand to hand, body to body, lovers as one. 

Clink. Clink. The end of the chain taps against the floor as Obito moves, knees pressing hard into the ground, nipping against Kakashi’s flesh. His robe ripples out, crowning his beauty as he moves, backlit by the eerie, everlasting light that is nowhere and everywhere. The threads of light tip his uneven hair, his forehead, the ridge of his scars as he tilts back his head, trying to catch a breath that isn’t there. 

The light makes his scars look as though they twist, as though the move. As if they’re just wisps of thread he can reach out and pluck, mistakenly dropped from above. Kakashi does reach out to touch. He doesn’t want to stop. He wasn’t quick enough to stop and save him. His fault and failing is woven in those lines, those lines than crack and bore beneath, beneath where it was moulded back together left, where it should have been right. 

His fingers fall, pulling at Obito’s lips. 

Has he ever  _ really  _ smiled since that day?

Obito smiles now. But it’s commanded by lust. By this place that is neither here, nor there. This place, that makes Obito remember, and Kakashi forget.

He moves with purpose and power. Kakashi can see the muscles in his thighs ripple every time he rocks back, and forth. He’s grown strong. Is this from his anger - or was this always going to be him?

A broad hand slams onto his chest as he feels Obito’s pace quicken. His eyes are narrowed, his long lashes tinted red and purple. He moves. Quicker. Deeper. Their other hands are bound in chains still, and with a wry smile, from his other wrist, extends a second chain, winding tight around Kakashi’s upper arm. 

He tugs, tightly, and leans hard into Kakashi’s thrusting length, his back arching elegantly. Traction. The tip of the second chain brushes against Kakashi’s neck. Like a paw. A paw. A  _ claw.  _

He thrusts hard, lifting off the ground. Obito pushes back, tugging on the chain. He isn’t quiet. He isn’t afraid to be loud. It feels like the louder he is, the brighter the light is around him. Kakashi wonders how much this place reacts to him and exists because of him. But his wonder ceases. No. It just changes, diverts wholly to Obito as he moans louder, the first cries of Kakashi’s name stumbling from his lips. 

The whisper on Kakashi’s lips is quiet, as always. But the roar in his heart is deafening. 

“Free my hand,” he demands, pressing their hands against Obito’s throat. He can feel his heartbeat. He can feel his skin, damp, hot.

The chains fall without protest. Flexing his marred fingers, Kakashi wraps them around Obito’s hot, swollen length. He remembers what it tastes like. He misses it already. Kakashi is almost there. Obito is almost there. 

But, Obito stops. He is breathless, skin sweet with sweat, threads of his hair sticking to his forehead. The skirt of his robe is scrunched at the sides, twisted in his toes. And his eyes are closed on a head that’s tilted down, afraid that if he opens them, none of this, will be real.

“Are we already dreaming?” he asks, his voice barely anything, and anywhere. 

Kakashi draws his thumb down Obito’s lip. “Just open your eyes.”

He waits. He waits. Then he does. He might be. He might not. But they’re together. And that’s all he wanted, in the end.

Obito leans down and kisses. He kisses long and hard, slowly resuming the motion of his hips, back, and forth; up and down. Kakashi joins him, meeting him halfway, all the way. His slides around his length, touching where the rest of him cannot. It’s a staggered touch, but it’s enough. 

Their kisses miss. Their breaths, escape. They try to speak, to whisper twenty years of unheard words, or simply to confess the other’s name. But the closer they reach their peak, the less words matter. Foreheads press together, noses slipping side by side as lashes kiss because they cannot. 

The chain tightens. Obito’s eyes still. The last breath he takes hitches high in his throat, and his lips drag against lips. He’s still, poised, a fractured statue. It’s the last thrust, the last circle of thumb over tip that pulls Obito to his peak, and silently, he reaches his orgasm, holding it beautifully, cradled in Kakashi’s arms for a moment, a moment, before a second thrust, another, and he rides the rest in a shuddering ecstasy, loud and unabashed. 

Strong arms and strong chains pull on Obito as this time, Kakashi rolls them over, hooking leg under leg, keeping them as one, making sure Obito rides his pleasure as long as he can. He doesn’t hit the ground, but falls, inch by inch, guided by the chain, his robe spread like a canopy, below. 

Kakashi wastes no time, because there is little left, and thrusts. He listens to the uncurbed moans of his lover, the whispers, the words, pulling on their pleasure and passion in a world that once held anything, but. 

He feels Obito’s hands tremble as they hold him. As they slide up, and down his flesh, committing the muscles to memory. The chain is cold against his skin. It’s always cold even wrapped around his skin. 

Kakashi moves. He thrusts. His hand is sticky, his stomach too, as it presses against Obito’s cock. He inches it towards Obito’s lips, but he’s already there, taking a finger into his mouth, and licking it clean. His tongue is warm, his breath slowing.

Obito bites, gently.

Kakashi thrusts, roughly.

He’s ran out of words - they both have for now. But it’s okay. This, speaks more than anything. 

He wants to hold back and make it last longer, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t.

Pinning down Obito, nails breaking the skin, he thrusts for the last time, lifting Obito off the floor as he spends himself inside. A kiss, another, muffles his strangled moan. He wants to breathe, but he’d rather kiss. The kiss is rough, like this touch. But it’s welcomed. It’s wanted. It’s given back. 

He falls against Obito’s chest, and just, breathes.

And breathes.

They lie, limbs tangled, chain draped across Kakashi’s chest, the tip coiled at his thigh. He thinks they might have lain here for hours, or days. Time means nothing in here. But Obito means everything. Kakashi tried to count Obito’s breaths, his blinks, his lashes, his strands of hair. 

Anything that means he doesn’t think _.  _

“What do we do now?” asks Obito, his voice weary, wary, wounded.

“Don’t ask me that question,” said Kakashi, not unkind.

Obito sighs, looking up, up at the ‘sky’ of Kamui’s dimension. Endless. Ungiving, but giving. A beauty, but feared. A nothing, but everything. If he looked hard enough, he could see stars. “This place...I thought it was here that was making me feel again.” He pauses, holding their hands lazily to the sky. “But it was always you.”

Slow fingers run through his grey hair, unwinding the knots. He can’t remember the last time someone played with his hair. 

Kakashi closes his eyes.

_ Are we already dreaming?  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
